Luck of the Dragonborn
by jazminions
Summary: After a situation involving a hangover, a near-execution and a dragon, 19-year-old Breton Luna Lyrick is now lost and alone in a cold land far from her home in High Rock. Armed only with basic magic and fighting skills an adventurous heart, Luna must survive the harsh lands of Skyrim. Little does she know her real adventure is just beginning.


Gods damn it to oblivion, my head.

The whole world was swimming, it felt like I was moving or something.

I was moving.

I reluctantly opened my eyes to observe the branches of tall trees slowly sliding along above me, I could hear the grinding of large wheels and the soft clopping of horses' hooves, I seemed to be on a carriage moving slowly down a road, an uneven, cobbled road apparently- every damned bump was agony to my head. Dappled sunlight shone brightly through the trees and straight into my eyes, I groaned and covered my face with my hands and find them strangely restricted, upon bringing my hands away I found my wrists tightly bound up with rope.

This was a new one.

Resolving that this was no time to wonder how I had gotten myself into such a position, and that I could marvel at my own drunken stupidity once I'd made my daring escape, I struggled to get them loose, but with no avail (curses, what happened to my knife?). As I racked my groggy, hungover brain for another way to get free I heard a voice speak from directly opposite me. A man's voice.

'Hey, you're awake'

I peered through my blurred vision to see a youngish blonde man, a Nord as far as I could make out. He was wearing royal blue armor and had a single plait at the front of his fair, shoulder-length hair.

I'd remember all this when I described him to the guards after I'd escaped.

So apparently I'd been kidnapped by whoever this sick bastard was. Well he'd picked the wrong kid to mess with, even though my hands are bound I could still give a pretty good kick, maybe I could produce a nice downwards hit with both hands. I'd fought worst than him and he wasn't touching me. I looked determinedly up at the passing tree branches again, refusing to dignify him with an answer.

'You were trying to cross the border right?' he continued obliviously, 'walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there.' he indicated a dark haired Nord in rags sitting diagonally opposite me- his hands were also bound. I looked back at the blonde Nord to notice his hands were tightly wrapped in rope too. It appeared my vivid imagination had once again jumped to wild conclusions, and that these men were in fact not the bad guys and we were all in the same boat here- or prison carriage.

"_Cross the border_"? Well, I could instantly tell that I wasn't in High Rock anymore, it was far too cold. High Rock always had reasonably fair weather even in the colder seasons. Here there was snow and towering mountains surrounding the road, High Rock was more into rolling hills and greenery and picturesque little villages where sweet old ladies would bake you sweet roles. Had I illegally crossed the border into Skyrim in last night's drunken stupor? No, that wouldn't be enough to end up on a prison carriage with my hands bound. I must have done something to really offend them- public nudity? Fighting? Stealing? Well, it had happened before.

As I contemplated what I could have possibly done this time, I tuned into what the dark haired Nord was saying,

'Damn you Stormcloaks! he exclaimed, 'Skyrim was fine until you came along! Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you, I could have stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell!' he turned to me, 'you there, you and me... we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the empire wants'. He stared at me desperately with wide, imploring eyes. He was young, couldn't be much older than me even.

I simply nodded at him as I had no idea what he was talking about. Empire? Stormcloaks? Sounded like political talk to me, and I had absolutely no interest in politics.

'We are all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief' the first Nord remarked grimly, frowning and shaking blonde hair out of his eyes.

'Shut up back there!' the Imperial carriage driver hissed.

Gladly. I welcomed the excuse not to make idle conversation, for one thing I needed to be left alone to recover when I was hungover- my family knew this well- and for another, I needed to figure out a way to get myself out of this mess because wherever this carriage was taking us, it couldn't be good. I didn't know if my parents would be able get me out of prison in a another province. I didn't even know how my parents could find out where I'd gone. No. I needed to somehow escape from this carriage unnoticed, get off the road into the woods, unbind my hands, find the path back to the border, cross the border back into High Rock unnoticed and go back home and tell my family I'd spent the night in an inn or something equally as innocent. Huh.

Easier said than done. The guards seemed to have us surrounded, I could see another horse-drawn carriage moving up ahead, presumably carrying more prisoners. There was a single guard on horseback bringing up the rear. Gods... if I only had my damned knife, I could cut these bindings, take him out silently in a split second when he wasn't looking and take his horse. I could probably get away before the other prisoners ratted me out- I could make a horse go pretty fast. No use dwelling on that though, my knife was gone, along with everything else I had started last night with: my gold, my satchel, my jewelery- the perverts had even taken off my dress. I was dressed head to toe in itchy rags, even on my _feet_. Oh this was ridiculous. How did I keep getting myself into these kinds of situations?

Drink, I suppose. Mead specifically. My bad habits and complete lack of responsibility had gotten me into trouble in the past. Like the time I rode off on that nobleman's horse in the middle of the forest, or when I pushed that poor farmer's cart of cheese wheels into the river, or when I was showing off to a boy and I almost set his house on fire- never use destruction magic when drunk. But this, without a doubt, was the worst thing I've ever done, whatever it was I had done. My actions had been known to incur a fine before (much to my parents' dismay) but I'd never actually been taken prisoner- in another province. This isn't exactly the way I had pictured my first time leaving High Rock.

Damn, I wouldn't even be able to use magic properly with my hands like this. Why did they have to be tied so _tight_? If they were just a little looser I could slip out of them and hit the guard behind us with a well-aimed ice spike spell. But again, there was no use dwelling on any of this, the guards had clearly thought of all these possibilities before. Damn...

'What's _his_ problem?' the dark-haired Nord asked suddenly, cutting into my thoughts. He was gesturing towards yet another Nord sitting next to me who I hadn't fully noticed the existence of in my search for escape routes.

He was a large, burly man with brown hair scraped back over his head with two small parts plaited at the front (Nords liked their plaits, apparently). He was both bound and gagged but still managed to maintain a something of an air of grandeur about him. Clearly wealthy, dressed in rich furs and coats even as a prisoner. I wondered if he was into organised crime, made money from assassinations or stealing.

'Watch your tongue!' the blonde Nord snapped 'you're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true high king!

'Ulfric, the Jarl of Windhelm?' the young Nord's eyes widened ever further, 'you're the leader of the rebellion- but if they've captured you... gods, where are they taking us?'

'I don't know where we're going' the blonde Nord sighed bleakly, 'but Sovngard awaits'.

The younger man jumped as if the blonde Nord had hit him, the little color that was left in his face suddenly drained away.

'No! This can't be happening! This isn't happening!'

There was audible panic in his voice now.

I looked away towards the passing trees again. I wasn't too thrilled about the blonde Nord's theory about where we were going either.

'Hey, what village are you from, horse thief?' asked the blonde Nord.

'Why do you care?' said the young thief reproachfully

'A Nord's last thoughts should be of home.'

'Rorikstead. I'm... I'm from Rorikstead...'

His voice cracked before he fell into silence.

We were now passing through a large wooden gate which lead into what looked like a small village.

'General Tulius!' a woman shouted 'the headsman is waiting!'

'Good, let's get this over with.' the man I assumed to be General Tulius replied.

'Shor, Mara, Dibella, Akatosh, Divines! Please help me!' the thief pleaded under his breath in a fast, panicked voice.

'Look at him!' the blonde Nord sneered as we continued slowly through the unknown village, 'General Tulius, the military governor. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damned elves, I bet they have something to do with this...' He looked around. 'This is Helgen. I used to be sweet on a girl here, wonder if Vilad is still making the that mead with juniper berries mixed in...' he paused. 'Funny, when I was a boy Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe...'

The blonde Nord's eyes were slightly misty as he too, fell into silence.

As we passed by the houses of Helgen, I could almost feel the village people's stares upon us.

'Who are they, Daddy?' a young boy's voice piped up from a nearby porch.

'Go inside, little cub' answered the father

'Why? I want to watch the soldiers!'

'Inside the house! Now!'

'Yes father.'

Just then, the carriage ground to a halt

'Why are we stopping?' gasped the young thief in between shallow, panicked breaths.

'What do you think?' answered the blonde Nord gravely 'end of the line.'

He sighed a deep, shuddering sigh.

'Let's go. Shouldn't keep the gods waiting for us.'

The Blonde Nord stood up and made to get off the carriage, the dark haired thief stayed put.

_'_No! Wait! We're not rebels!' he yelled in a high voice.

'Face your death with some courage, thief' the blonde Nord frowned

Screw that, I didn't belong here either. I wasn't with these "rebels" whoever they were, if they were being hunted by the empire then that was their problem, but I had nothing to do with it. I searched around desperately for some kind of escape route, a hiding place, anything. But I was out of luck. The village was surrounded by a stone wall and we were in an open space full of people and guards, there was no chance of hiding or getting away from here.

As the blonde Nord stood back to let Ulfric Stormcloak alight from the carriage before him, the thief grabbed the hem of his armor.

'You've got to tell them! We weren't with you! This is a mistake!'

The blonde Nord looked at him almost pitifully, pulled away and stepped off the carriage after Ulfric. I stayed closely behind them in the hope that the guards might not notice me behind two burly Nords as I was so tiny, it had worked for me in the past. Once the three of us were off the carriage the young thief eventually followed suite, shaking with fear.

'Step towards the block as we call you name!' a female guard's voice rang out across the cold courtyard, 'one at a time!'

'Empire loves their damned lists' muttered the fair Nord gruffly.

I peered through the gap between the two Nords to see yet another Nord, a male guard with straight brown hair parted in the middle and a somewhat kind face considering he was a guard. He opened a roll of parchment and began to read.

'Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm'

'It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric' said the fair Nord in a sad voice.

Ulfric trudged over to the chopping block and executioners stood in the middle of the grey stone courtyard, a large crowd of people had showed up to watch.

'Savages.' I muttered under my breath as I stepped behind the thief in the hope that I would still be hidden, I think he was too panicked by the whole situation to notice what I was doing. I was desperately buying time here- it wasn't long before the fair Nord and the thief too would be heading for the chopping block.

'Ralof of Riverwood!' the guard called out from his list. Ralof the fair haired Nord gave me one last sad smile and walked off after Ulfric with his head held high.

The guard consulted his parchment once more.

'Lokir of Rorikstead!'

Lokir the thief jumped backwards into me

'No! I'm not a rebel! You can't do this!' he pleaded desperately.

There was a pause, then all of a sudden he was running, Lokir was sprinting as fast as he could with his hands bound, towards the large gate where the carriage had brought us in.

'Halt!' yelled the female guard.

'You're not gonna kill me!' shrieked Lokir without turning around.

'Archers!' the female guard ordered.

There was a rush of noise overhead, arrows swooped into the scene from all directions and Lokir fell and moved no more.

So much for escaping.

'Anybody else feel like running?' sneered the female guard as they turned from the scene.

'Wait, you there', said the Nord guard, looking at me properly for the first time.

'Step forward.'

I took a couple of reluctant steps away from the cart which I had been leaning on, I didn't like being away from the cart, it was like stepping off it again; walking away from the one link I had between here and outside the great stone walls of this town.

'Who are you?' asked the Nord as he stared enquiringly into my face. The stare was not at all unkind, almost sympathetic.

I shook my head to sweep the strands of straggly dark hair out of my eyes and gave what I hoped to be a hard stare right back. I stood up as straight as I could and tried to puff myself out defensively; my father had always taught us never to show fear in front of an enemy, be it human or beast. 'Luna L-Lyrick.' I said with all the confidence I could muster, almost tripping over my damned alliterative name.

The Nord looked at me again, 'You from Daggerfall, Breton? Fleeing from some court intrigue?'

I opened my mouth to make some snarky remark before remembering that this might not be far from the truth. I simply raised my eyebrows at him as he turned to his female colleague next to him.

'Captain' he said in an undertone, 'what should we do? She's not on the list'.

'Forget the list. she goes on the block' she said without a second of thought.

It was now that I let something rather unsavoury escape my mouth which made the female captain purse her lips at me and the Nord look faintly amused.

By your orders, Captain' he sighed, quickly returning to his grave demeanor. 'I'm sorry' he turned to me again, 'we'll make sure your remains are returned to High Rock.'

'Oh, that's comforting.' I attempted to make a sarcastic retort but my voice cracked slightly and I bit my lip, the Nord looked genuinely apologetic.

'Follow the Captain, prisoner' he said quietly.

I turned away from him after the captain and screwed up my eyes, I didn't want anyone to see me like this.

'Ulfric Stormcloak!' the man named General Tullius said to Ulfric as we made our way through the crowd of onlookers, 'some here in Helgen called you a hero, but a hero doesn't use a power like the voice to murder his king and usurp his throne. You started this war! Plunged Skyrim into chaos! Now the Empire is going to put you down and restore the peace!'

Just then, a loud roaring sound echoed eerily down through the surrounding mountains and trees, cutting into Tullius' speech. Though distant, you could tell it was from a very large mammal, too loud for even a bear or a sabre cat. Perhaps it was a troll. Everyone stopped where they stood.

'What was that?' asked one of the guards uneasily.

'It's nothing- carry on' dismissed General Tullius

'Yes General Tullius!' answered the female captain loudly with a little too much enthusiasm. Freaking kiss-arse, if it weren't for her and jobs-worthy bullcrap I could be walking away free right now. She turned to a Priestess, 'Give them their last rights!'

'As we commend your souls to Atherius, blessings of the eight divines upon you-' the Priestess began.

'For the love of Talos, shut up and let's get this over with!' said another prisoner in royal blue armor who was travelling in the carriage in front of us on the way here. He marched towards the chopping block.

'As you wish' sighed the Priestess.

Come on, I haven't got all morning!' aid the prisoner almost challengingly to the executioner, who shoved his head down onto the stone block

'My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials' the man snarled up at him 'can you say the same?' and the axe blew down onto his neck with a horrific squelching sound just as the last word of his jeer escaped his lips, I didn't even have time to close my eyes. His head rolled into the basket placed in front of the block, the body slumped backwards before a guard kicked it off the side onto the stone cobbles.

'You Imperial bastards!' Shrieked a female prisoner

'Justice!' retorted an Imperial man loudly

'Death to the Stormcloaks!' yelled another

I stood still in silence. Even though I had been fully expecting it, the suddenness of the execution still came as a shock to me. A chilly gust of wind blew through the town and rustled the flags standing in the courtyard. It bit at my bare arms, pierced straight through the loosely woven sack-like material of the rags hanging off my body. The environment now seemed even colder than before, I stood here in this cold, strange land which I did not know with a group of people whom I had never met, in the midst of a fight that was not mine, I was alone and friendless, bound with rope, dressed in rags, facing my death. I struggled to control my breathing and stop shivering. Never show fear.

'In fearless in death as he was in life' remarked Ralof next to me. I simply blinked at him and gave a slight nod, I didn't know what to say to him. All the energy in my body seemed to be focused on my heart, which was now beating so hard it was a wonder it wasn't visible through my chest, the simple function of forming words and talking to someone else now seemed alien to me.

'Next, the Breton!' called the female Captain.

Before I had time to react, another roar came bellowing down towards the town, much louder than before. Far too loud for a troll.

'There it is again' said a nearby Imperial guard, looking up and then at the other guards, 'did you hear that?'

'I said, _next prisoner_!' yelled the Captain

I stood motionless, perhaps I was pretending not to hear, or perhaps it was because I could not bring my legs to move me towards my ultimate end. Anything to remain living and breathing for a little longer.

'To the block, prisoner' said the kind Nord guard softly, he placed his hand on my shoulder and gave me a gentle push, 'nice and easy'.

This was it. I forced myself to walk, though I had seemingly lost the ability to do so. The mere concept of moving one foot in front of the other in order to move forward was now so strange that I could hardly believe I had been doing so with such ease for almost my whole life, what were to be my last few steps were uneasy and slow. My heart pumped harder than ever now, my breaths was quick and shallow. My body was audaciously keeping these vital functions working as hard as ever, almost in protest, to keep me alive. But my heartbeats and breaths were numbered, about to be brought abruptly to a halt by something beyond my body's control.

I reached the block and dropped to my knees, trying not to shake. A rough hand shoved my head down, forcing my neck onto the stone. The cold burned my skin, the block was still coated in the blood of the man before me. I looked up to see a man with an axe larger than I was, he was silhouetted against the bright sky. I tried to stare up at the clouds, the mountains, the trees. Listen to the sound of birds, breathe one last deep breath of the cold, clear fresh air. The axeman raised his axe into the air above him preparing to drop it back down for the final blow. I shut my eyes.


End file.
